THEN:

"Mulder, another one of your fish is dead." Walter Skinner observed, peering into the murky depths of the fish tank.

Mulder looked up from the file folder he was absorbed in.

"Really?" He stood up from the couch and joined Walter crouching in front of the shelf that held the tank.  He pushed his glasses up a little further on his nose, and frowned at the pathetic orange corpse bobbing serenely next to the UFO tank toy. Then he looked over at Walter, made a great show of holding back sobs of grief and declared in what was unarguably the hokiest Southern accent ever:

"Oh, no, say it ain't so! I loved Little Elvis!"

Walter kissed the ensuing smirk off his mouth, couldn't help smiling a little himself, then got serious again.

"Smart ass. It wouldn't have happened if you cleaned the tank once in a while. Or maybe fed them-ever try that?"

Mulder shook his head, looked guilty just long enough for Walter to notice, then tapped a finger on the side of the tank. 'Little Elvis' didn't respond, although he thought something under the algae-covered pebbles might have winked at him.

"It's not my fault!" he exclaimed, "When I'm not out on a case, I'm usually at your place." His next words were quieter, almost talking to himself. "Sometimes I'm surprised I even remember where I live."

"We could always tag you."

Mulder looked at him, eyes widening behind his glasses as he continued.

"You know, get you one of those "If I am lost, please return me to…"

That comment earned him a wet-cat look of disgust that made him want to smile again.

"I'm serious, Walter." His eyes were drawn back to the dead fish. "Besides, who ever found me would probably just slap a choke-chain on me and drag me back to your apartment."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"…No-o-o…"

"Not quite the enthusiastic response I was looking for." As he spoke, he put one large hand on the back of Mulder's head, stroked his soft hair in a familiar manner that he used often to soothe both of them. He felt the conversation taking on a more solemn tone, and he gave his lover his undivided attention.

"It's not you, Walter.  Really." As he spoke, he turned under Walter's hand, demanding more pressure, like a cat arching its back under its master's touch. "I love being with you, and I like your place…"

The unspoken 'but' hung in the air between them for a fraction of a moment, then Walter finished his thought for him.

"But it's my place." Emphasis on the word 'my', and Mulder looked guilty again.

"I'm sorry, I'm being an ass." He ducked his head out from under Walter's hand and stood up.

"No, Fox." Walter stood as well, and put strong arms around him from behind, holding him tightly through an instinctive fight-or-flight moment that neither one would consciously acknowledge, but which they both knew was there.  He rested his head on Mulder's shoulder and continued. "Your point is valid. I've even been thinking about it myself."

"Really?" Sounding skeptical.

"Lately, yeah. A lot." He paused, then gave his lover an inappropriate kiss on the ear. "Listen.  Why don't we give Little Elvis there a proper burial at sea, and then we can talk about how to keep your fish alive."

"Can we have pizza?" Mulder turned into the embrace and wrapped his long arms around Walter's shoulders, his half smile earning him a kiss on the down turned side of his mouth.

"You order." He reached behind Mulder and grabbed the small green fishnet off the shelf above the tank. "I'll take care of the arrangements." They shared a bigger smile.

As Mulder disengaged himself and headed over to the phone, he said, "Walter, do you know the words to 'Beyond The Sea'?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

***

Much later, Little Elvis had gone to his final reward somewhere in the bowels of the Washington sewer system, and Mulder had demolished most of the large pizza they had ordered himself, claiming it was part of the grieving process. Walter had countered with his own version of mourning, and forced Mulder to help him clean out the fish tank, intent on rescuing the lone occupant from certain polluted death.

"Lisa Marie looks lonely in there all by herself," Mulder commented as he surveyed the pristine tank, delighted to find out that the pebbles at the bottom were multi-coloured, and not the uniform moss green he had originally thought.

"She's not the only one who gets lonely, Fox," Walter said, coming up behind him and putting his hands on the younger man's shoulders. Mulder turned in his lover's embrace, and returned it, clasping his hands around the back of Walter's neck.

"Are you lonely, Walter?" the sincerity of the question was diluted by the leer Mulder offered with it.

"Sometimes. When you're out on assignment, or…" he let his voice trail off and pressed his lips to Mulder's forehead.

"Or?"

"When you're not with me…at home…" He whispered the words carefully, knowing how skittish Mulder could be when it came to matters not directly related to alien abductions or government conspiracies. But he hadn't been lying to him when he had told him he'd been thinking about the way they lived, and the death of the fish seemed to be an opening to a conversation he was ready to have.  He just hoped Mulder was too.

"What do you mean, 'at home'?" Mulder punctuated the words with feather light kisses to Walter's cheeks, his chin, the tip of his nose. When no answer was forthcoming, he pulled back and looked his lover square in the eye, his hazel pupils darkening in a way Walter was unable to interpret.

"Should I be sitting down for this conversation?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Uh oh."

Walter had no answer for that but to steer him towards the couch, never relinquishing his hold on him, then pulling him down to sit very nearly in his lap. Mulder shifted a bit to get comfortable, and wound up pushing Walter into the corner of the couch and sitting between his legs, one which was hanging over the edge of the couch, and the other pushed up against the back. Walter pulled him in to his body tightly, with his head resting on his chest just high enough that his soft hair tickled Walter's chin.

"Okay, I'm resting comfortably," said Mulder. "I've had food, drink and some mild foreplay." As he spoke he ran his hands absently over Walter's thick arms, which were wrapped around his chest like iron bands. "We had a Martha Stewart moment and saved the life of a fine goldfish. I even got some work done so my weekend is accounting department free.  And to top off the day-" He twisted his head to catch his lover's eye. "I have a devastatingly handsome man pinned to my couch." 

Walter turned away from his gaze, blushing a little. 

"So, having established that, I guess the next order of business is for you to tell me something awful that will ruin everything." He thought he had given the statement just the right flippant tone, but he hadn't, and Walter looked back at him with some alarm.

"What the hell are you talking about, Fox?"

"It's all too perfect, Walter," he blundered on despite the shocked tone in his lover's voice. "My life just doesn't work this way. Never has." He couldn't look at Walter now. "You've read my jacket. You know the drill: Step one, make Mulder happy. Step two, drop other shoe. Pretty simple, when you think about it."

"You forgot step three." Walter's voice was deceptively smooth, but Mulder wasn't fooled. He just wondered if the other man was angry at him, or at the powers that be, for bringing him into the X-File that was life with Mulder.

"What did I miss?"

"Step three." There was no mistaking the menace in those growled words, and Mulder tensed under them. There was a moment of silence that was almost palpable, hanging like thick fog in the room.

"Step three," Walter said again, "Hand the dropped shoe back to Mulder and ask him if he wants to move in with Walter Skinner."

Mulder was speechless. He slithered out of Walter's embrace and jumped to his feet as if he'd been stung.

"Is that 'no' or is it 'I have to think about it'?" Walter's tone was dry, but the growl was still there, if somewhat muted.

"And people tell me I'm crazy!" Mulder exclaimed. Walter held out a hand, Mulder took it reluctantly, and found himself pulled back down on the couch, beside Walter as he sat up. 

"Tell me why I'm crazy." That voice, like velvet and fine grade sandpaper combined, was impossible for Mulder to resist. He ran his hands through his hair, and studied his shoes as he tried to put his madly racing thoughts into some kind of cohesive dialogue.

"I'm a slob," was his opening argument.

"And I'm anal retentive. We should compliment one another nicely." Walter wasn't giving an inch on this, at least not without a valid reason. And it would have to be one hell of a reason.  He'd already had this conversation with himself a million times in the last few weeks, and he felt sure of his decision. Now he had to make Mulder believe in it, too.

"You're apartment is too small for two people."

"We'll find another place, Fox. Somewhere that's both of ours. With room for everything-my desk, your fish, our neurosis."

He got a weak grin at that, and was profoundly grateful.

"You hate my furniture."

"Now you're reaching, Fox." He put an arm around tense shoulders and squeezed firmly. "Now tell me the real reason you don't want to do this."

Mulder looked at him then, eyes wide and filled with longing.

"I don't want to do this because…"

Walter hugged him still tighter.

"Because…"

He kissed him softly on his temple, let his face rest in his hair, kissed him again.

"I don't want to do this because I want to do this so bad it scares me."

"That makes sense." Walter's whispered words stirred the fine silk of his hair.

"It does, though. I've taught myself not to want the sort of things you offer, Walter. Security, home and hearth, domestic tranquility. I learned not to trust those things at an early age. You know that. And now, when I want so badly to believe in us, in you, in all those pipe and slipper dreams, I find all those old feelings coming back to bite me in the ass."

"If you want this as bad as you say you do, then you have to let it go, Fox."

"I know."

"Say yes. Not for me, although you've got to believe me when I say I want this probably more than you do. And not for any false sense of normalcy, because that's not what's being offered here. Say yes because you want to, because you know that you deserve happiness, and closure, and all the pipes and slippers that any one man can handle, just as much as anyone.  Maybe more."

Mulder's response was so low Walter couldn't make it out.

"What?"

"I said yes, you big oaf! Yes, I want to live with you! Yes, I want the house in the suburbs and the goddamned station wagon, and even the fucking picket fence!" He was laughing as he spoke, eyes tilted up and nearly green with happiness, even as he hurled the words at Walter with almost angry force, and Walter wasn't the least bit surprised at the contradiction. "I want every single damned bit of it, and I want it with you!"

He fell dramatically into Walter's lap and looked up at him with shiny eyes. "You get the contract, and I'll open a vein."

"You are such an ass!" Walter exclaimed, his own smile threatening to split his face in half.

"Speaking of my ass…"

"Nice segue."

Mulder shifted around in Walter's lap and felt a stirring there.

"Thanks. You, too."

Walter pulled him up a little and lowered his face just enough that their lips touched softly. Mulder put his arms around the thick neck and pulled himself up closer, opening his mouth for a deeper kiss, which Walter was only too glad to give him. They teased one another with tongues and lips and teeth for long minutes, until Walter felt something in his neck warning him about the consequences of couch sex, no matter how fun it might seem at the time, and he pulled back with a soft bite at Mulder's lower lip. Mulder disengaged his arms and let himself be lowered gently back into Walter's lap.

Without hesitation, Mulder turned his head where it lay across Walter's thighs and brushed a cheek across the conspicuous bulge in his pants. Walter shifted under him, and made some small noise of approval, then groaned louder when Mulder gently mouthed him through the material of his pants.

"Nice segue," he murmured, and the vibration of his words and the small chuckle after them on Walter's denim encased erection was enough to spur the other man into action. He unceremoniously dumped Mulder off his lap and almost onto the floor, stood, if a little shakily, and held out a hand.

Mulder reached up and was pulled into Walter's arms so quickly he nearly fell, but those iron band arms went round his waist and held him upright and steady, even when deep and thorough kisses followed and his legs started to feel rubbery.  He pulled his mouth away to breathe for a moment, and whispered, "Is this the part where they bring out Elvis?"

"No, this is the part where I drag you into the bedroom, tear off your clothes and make you scream."  Walter bit at his throat, which he conveniently bared for him, and slid his hands down his back to rest on the muscular globes of his ass, pulling their bodies even closer together.

"I-I can't scream," Mulder gasped, "I have neighbours."

"You're moving, remember?"

"No arguing with that logic." He turned his head, found his lover's willing mouth again, then broke off suddenly and whispered. "Locks." He flicked his tongue around Walter's. "Lights." He nipped at his chin.

"Got it."

"Meet you in the bedroom." More tongue dueling, while his hands roamed busily up and down Walter's spine. Then a step back, and hazel eyes fairly blazing with a combination of dizzy lust and overwhelming love. "I'll be the guy in the condom."

Walter gave his ass a sharp slap. "Go."

Mulder disappeared into the bedroom while Walter moved to the door, drawing the chain lock across it, then finding light switches and lamps and shutting them off. When the only illumination left in the room was the small light from the aquarium, Walter paused for a moment, and announced gravely:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis has left the building."